Chapter Twenty
983 Words
Lucas was convinced Ethan Blackwood was secretly becoming normal.
And he intended to take full credit.
“So let me get this straight,” Lucas said as they stepped into a small pizza place in Manhattan.
“You own a billion-dollar company.”
“Yes.”
“You employ thousands.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve negotiated deals worth more money than I’ll probably see in three lifetimes.”
“Probably.”
“But you’ve never ordered pizza?”
Ethan shoved his hands into his pockets.
“I’ve ordered pizza.”
Lucas looked skeptical.
“Through an assistant.”
“…Yes.”
“That doesn’t count.”
Ethan sighed.
“Apparently, billionaires have rules now.”
Lucas grinned.
“I make the rules.”
“And rule number one is pizza tastes better when you stand awkwardly waiting for it.”
Ethan smirked.
“Noted.”
Lucas ordered.
Large pepperoni.
Margherita.
Cheese lovers.
Veggie.
Garlic knots.
Brownies.
Extra ranch.
Extra soda.
Ethan looked horrified.
“Are you feeding a football team?”
Lucas smiled.
“No.”
“A family.”
Half an hour later—
Blackwood Estate was louder than it had been in years.
Margaret nearly dropped her tray.
“What in heaven’s name?”
Lucas lifted three pizza boxes.
“Peace offering.”
Margaret looked behind him.
Ethan.
Holding soda.
Fries
And brownies.
Margaret crossed herself dramatically.
“Oh dear God.”
Amelia walked in.
Stopped.
Blinked.
Twice.
Ethan Blackwood.
Her employer.
The man who once yelled at a printer.
Was carrying Soda.
And smiling.
Smiling.
She looked at Lucas.
Lucas grinned.
“Told you.”
“I’m fixing him.”
Amelia laughed.
“I don’t know if he can be fixed.”
Ethan sat down.
“I heard that.”
Margaret sat.
The chef joined.
Security staff wandered in.
Housekeepers.
Drivers.
Even David had stopped by.
Nobody understood what was happening.
Except Lucas.
Lucas understood.
People needed people.
Even billionaires.
Soon, the dining table was full.
Pizza.
Stories.
Laughter.
Games.
Lucas taught everyone charades.
Margaret cheated.
Horribly.
David was competitive.
Alarmingly.
And Ethan?
Ethan lost every round.
“How do you not know Titanic?”
Lucas asked.
“I’ve never watched Titanic.”
Gasps.
Margaret nearly fainted.
“Excuse me?”
“No.”
“No.”
“No.”
“We’re fixing that tomorrow.”
Ethan laughed.
“I run a company.”
Margaret smiled.
“And tomorrow.”
“You’ll watch Leonardo DiCaprio.”
“No negotiations.”
Lucas high-fived her.
Later that evening.
Lucas sat beside Ethan in the living room.
Comfortable.
Relaxed.
Happy.
“So…”
Ethan looked up.
“So?”
“I was thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
“Very.”
Lucas grinned.
“I’d love to stay.”
“The weekend.”
“If you don’t mind.”
Ethan looked surprised.
“Really?”
Lucas shrugged.
“I like it here.”
“Margaret feeds people.”
“David loses games.”
“You have really nice couches.”
“And…”
He smiled softly.
“My sister smiles more recently.”
Silence.
Ethan noticed it too.
She did smile more.
She laughed.
Teased.
Rested.
She wasn’t surviving every second.
She was living.
Even if only a little.
“You can stay.”
Lucas smiled.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“You’re the best billionaire ever.”
“Let’s not get carried away though.”
Sure. For the next days, schedule gradually returned
Everyone lived following their schedule.
Sunday Morning.
6:12 a.m.
Blackwood Estate was quiet.
Peaceful.
Golden sunlight spilled into the kitchen.
And Ethan Blackwood stood staring at YouTube.
Video Title:
Perfect Homemade Pancakes.
Attempt Number One.
Burned.
Attempt Number Two.
Rubbery.
Attempt Number Three.
Margaret entered.
Stopped.
Stared.
Then sat down.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“You definitely don’t.”
“I’m trying.”
“Clearly.”
“Why?”
Ethan looked at the bowl.
Lucas’ words replayed.
Pancake Sundays.
People staying.
People laughing.
People remembering.
He smiled.
“I wanted them to wake up smiling.”
Margaret softened.
She said nothing.
Just helped.
Two hours later—
The smell filled the house.
Lucas ran downstairs.
“What?”
“No way.”
“Pancakes?”
Margaret grinned.
“He made them.”
Lucas looked at Ethan.
“Oh.”
“My.”
“God.”
“You’re evolving.”
Amelia walked in.
Hair messy.
Still sleepy.
Then—
She stopped.
Pancakes.
Orange juice.
Coffee.
Butter.
Maple syrup.
Laughter.
Lucas smiling.
Margaret smiling.
Staff sitting together.
And Ethan standing awkwardly.
Like he wasn’t sure he belonged.
Amelia eyes lit up immediately.
She urged him to sit
She smiled.
But tears slipped out.
Lucas stood.
“Hey.”
She laughed.
“It’s stupid.”
“No.”
Lucas said.
“It’s home.”
She nodded.
“It feels like home.”
Ethan looked down.
Quiet.
Thoughtful.
Amelia wiped tears.
Then looked at him.
“Thank you.”
He smiled.
“For what?”
“For remembering a tradition that wasn’t yours.”
Silence.
Lucas smiled.
“So.”
“Mr. Blackwood.”
“Question.”
“Go ahead.”
“What about your family?”
Silence settled.
Gentle.
Careful.
Ethan took a breath.
“My mother died when I was twenty-two.”
“My father died five years later.”
“No siblings.”
“No grandparents.”
“No cousins to speak to.”
“Mostly…”
He smiled softly.
“It’s been me.”
“And work.”
Lucas nodded.
“Then.”
He held up a pancake.
“You can borrow ours.”
Margaret smiled.
David smiled.
Amelia smiled.
And Ethan—
For the first time in years—
Didn’t feel alone.
Maybe.
Just maybe.
Some families weren’t born.
Some families arrived unexpectedly.
With pancakes.
Pizza.
Games.
And a teenager who refused to let a billionaire eat protein bars forever.
- Writer
